


More Than A Feeling

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s11e09 Nothing Lasts Forever, F/M, Fluff, Season 11, mulder's mind reading abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: What if Mulder could sense Scully's pregnancy?





	More Than A Feeling

It starts with a soft flutter, one evening. Mulder is zapping through the channels while Scully, her glasses almost slipping off, sitting next to him, is trying to focus on her medical journal. The first time it happens, he thinks it’s the TV. Then it happens again and he’s already changed the channel, so it’s not that. By the third time, he’s convinced he’s gone insane.

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Do you hear anything?”

“Hear what? The TV is on.” The sleepy drawl in her voice indicates that she’s fallen asleep again. That has been happening a lot lately.

“That noise.”

“What noise, Mulder?” Her patience is very thin these days, too. But Mulder is used to that. They’re living together again, more or less, and it’s taking some time getting used to it.

“That… fluttering. There! Do you hear that?” He looks at her, listening for more. The sound is faint to begin with, inconsistent.

“What fluttering? I don’t hear anything.” She yawns and rubs her eyes. She puts her glasses back on and turns the page in her journal. It takes all of ten seconds for her glasses to slip again and her eyes to close. Mulder smiles.

“Hey, how about you go to bed, hm? You’re tired.”

“Am not. Am reading this article.” She doesn’t even open her eyes while she’s saying it.

“Come on. I’m putting you to bed.” Scully won’t let him carry her, but he puts his hand on her back and leads her upstairs. The flutter follows them, turns into a jittering. He makes a mental note to read up on it on his phone as soon as Scully is in bed. She’s sleepily slow as she undresses and he watches her, in case she needs help. She doesn’t.

“Good night,” he whispers, kissing her forehead as soon as she’s snuggled in. She gives him a smile, her eyes closing already, and he is certain she is asleep before he’s even left the room.

Downstairs, he gets comfortable on the couch, stretching his legs out. He opens the internet browser on his phone and googles his auditory phenomenon. Just as he suspected it could be anything. A tumor, cancer or plain stress. That seems the most logical explanation. Except he hasn’t heard the flutter in over ten minutes. Ever since he’s come back down to the living room, the noise has quieted down.

He waits all night for it to reappear, but it doesn’t.

Not until next morning, that is. Scully shuffles into the room, mumbling good morning and heading straight for the coffee machine. Mulder puts his newspaper down and watches her. There’s something about her that gives him pause. It’s not how breathtakingly beautiful she is in the morning. That’s a given.

“Why are you staring at me?” Scully asks as she turns around, sipping her coffee. She grimaces. “What is wrong with this coffee?”

“Nothing,” Mulder says, taking a big sip from his own cup to make sure. “It tastes like it always does to me.” She shrugs and takes another sip, followed by the same grimace. Mulder hears the flutter again, louder than before. There’s something… something. A dim memory forms in his mind from long ago. A morning similar to this, Scully, heavily pregnant, handing him a cup of coffee in her apartment and complaining how much she misses drinking it. They were still trying to figure everything out; this pregnancy, his reappearance, their relationship. She admitted, with a shy smile, that giving up coffee had been easy, way easier than she thought it would be. The taste, she’d said, was off.

Something is off here, too.

Mulder is staring at her as if trying to solve a puzzle. Scully being Scully, she doesn’t give up. She drinks her coffee, sips it, and visibly hates every drop of it. Every time she does, Mulder hears the flutter.

It’s her. The flutter is coming from Scully.

He’s not good at math, not as good as Scully, anyway. But even he can put two and two together. This should not be possible, not at all. A grin breaks out on his face, halfway through his thought process. It can’t be, but… what if it is anyway?

“Scully, I think…” How do you ask a woman, your best friend and partner, the love of your life - who has been unable to conceive in over a decade - if she could be pregnant? Her eyes are expectant and Mulder has never had the best timing. Her mouth closes over the porcelain when Mulder just blurts it out.

“Scully, I think you might be pregnant.” She chokes on her coffee, her face turning red. Mulder is up in an instant and by her side, gently stroking her back until her coughing fit subsides.

“Are you crazy?” Her breathless words wear a hue of anger.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he begins, pausing when he catches her look of utter disbelief. “I just… is there any way that you… is it at all possible?”

“No,” she says in a firm voice, putting the mug down. “Why on earth would you ask me that?”

“The coffee,” he points at the cup. “You hated coffee when you were pregnant with William. That’s what you told me. You’re tired all the time, Scully. You’re easily irritated.”

“It’s because you say things like that,” she says, frustrated. The flutter intensifies and Mulder reaches out to touch her stomach. “What are you doing?” Her question is a strangled whisper. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Maybe he wants to prove her right, or himself wrong. The pain in her eyes is his fault. A few years after William, they talked about children. What it would be like to have more, at least one more. They had the same talk just a few months back and Mulder remembers it well, their new beginning. What if they’d made the impossible possible, the improbable probable?

“I just want to…” He hears it, the faint sound of a new life. It’s in Scully.

“Mulder, please stop.” A simple, yet desperate plea.

“I’m right about this,” he says, looking into her eyes. She knows he wouldn’t lie to her. There’s certainty in his voice. “Let’s get a pregnancy test and-”

“You’re crazy, Mulder.” Her voice trembles, as do her lips. She wants this. As obscure and outrageous it is, Scully wants him to be right. “Let’s go and find out just how crazy you are.”

Scully’s is gripping his hand as they walk into the drugstore. They easily find the home pregnancy tests and take two different boxes – to be safe. Mulder glances at her, silently asking if she wants to get a third. She shakes her head so two it is.

“I can’t wait until we’re home,” Scully says in the car. It’s a 15 minute drive and he’s already over the speed limit.

“I love you but please don’t tell me you want to pee in my car.”

“I should have taken the test right there in that drugstore.”

“We’ll be home in five minutes, Scully. I promise.” He takes her hand into his, interlacing their fingers. The tests are only for her anyway. He knows she’s pregnant. He listens to the gentle flutter and smiles. Their baby.

Mulder waits outside the bathroom while Scully pees. As soon as he hears the faucet, he opens the door and steps inside. She’s worrying her lip, staring at him with troubled, teary eyes. Mulder takes both her hands into his, swings them back and forth lightly.

“It will be fine. Do you want to talk names while we wait?” He grins at her.

“Please don’t get your hopes up.” Mulder nods but he puts his hand on her stomach. It’s still flat, so inconspicuous; the baby can’t be bigger than a lentil or a blueberry. He can’t quite suppress his smile either. “Mulder,” she moans, but then smiles weakly. “You’re not thinking about names yet, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No, I was just thinking that our baby can’t be much bigger than a blueberry. We could call her that: Blueberry Mulder. It’s unique.”

“Her?” Scully’s eyes sparkle.

“I think it’s a her.”

“We don’t even know if I’m-”

“Time’s up,” Mulder interrupts her, showing her his watch. They stare at each other. His heart is pounding in his chest even though he knows. He feels it. He takes the test and turns it towards Scully. He wants to read the answer from her face, not from a plastic stick.

“This can’t be true,” she mumbles, every word full of disbelief. “It can’t be… it’s impossible.” Then she lifts her head and looks at him. This time he is here. This time he can hold her hand, wipe away the tears; the happy and the confused ones. This time is different, in every way. “How is this… Mulder, I can’t- I just-” She’s full on crying and Mulder takes her into his arms. Her tears turn into hiccups and then bouts of laughter.

“I told you,” he whispers into her hair once she’s calmed down. “I can hear it, feel the baby.”

“What does it sound like?” she asks into his shoulder.

“I don’t- it feels like a day at the ocean when you listen to the waves, when you feel them kiss your toes. She sounds like a bird, just spreading her wings and learning to fly.” And just like that, the sound appears again. Mulder takes Scully’s hand and puts it on her stomach. “Can you hear her?” They’re both quiet, listening.

“I don’t…” He hears her tears rather than he sees them.

“Shhh, it’s all right.”

“Mulder, this can’t be happening. I can’t be-” She quiets when he puts a finger on her lips.

“A miracle. That’s what she is.”

“But…”

“No buts this time. No ifs, ands or bees either for that matter.” She furrows her brows. “You don’t remember?” Scully shakes her head and Mulder gives her a dramatic sigh.

“Remember that movie they made about us?” He makes air quotes. “The Lazarus Bowl?”

“I haven’t thought about that in years.”

“It’s in the movie. We should watch it some day.”

“No, Mulder. Absolutely not. Can you really hear her?” He simply nods. “Is she… do you think…”

“She’s fine. We’ll all be fine. I know this is crazy and I know this shouldn’t be happening, but aren’t you excited at all?” She’s still torn, still worried and probably going through thousands of scenarios, thinking about what could go wrong. That’s his Scully.

“I am,” she admits. “And scared. So scared.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you.” He kisses her temple and puts his hand back on her stomach. He hears the now familiar flutter and closes his eyes, revelling in the sound of their baby, their miracle.


End file.
